The two-lane eventually melded into the interstate, which finally turned south. The ice cleared. The vehicle picked up speed and soon it was rocketing down the interstate, bathed in moonlight. There were no other cars on the road. As the truck hurtled into the night, chunks of ice broke off beneath it and skittered across the highway like comets leaving snow trails.
The heater was blasting, and the radio was up loud, alternating between archaic country and western heavy with steel guitars and a Southern preacher who spoke in a mesmerizing cadence while his congregation urged him on. The cab smelled of gasoline, sweat, and gun oil.
At the rate the snow and ice was flying off the pickup, Jeter Hoyt figured it would be clean by the time he hit Denver.
Wednesday, November 21
EIGHTEEN
IT HAD BEEN A miserable day. I awoke with a monster of a headache and a terrible taste in my mouth. As I brushed my teeth, I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror and didn’t like what looked back. My eyes were red coals in dark pools of blue. I looked ten years older than I was, and felt fifty years older. The guilt I hadn’t felt the day before hammered me now, made me wonder why I’d drunk away a perfectly good afternoon feeling sorry for myself when I could have been home with my wife and daughter, could have been doing something.
By the time I got dressed, it was ten in the morning. After all, there was no place to go.
Melissa was playing with Angelina in the family room, making her giggle. When I saw the two of them there on the floor, I wondered how much I’d missed over the past year being at work. A lot, I knew. This was the place important things were happening, not at the office.
“Da!” Angelina cried happily. I picked her up off the floor and kissed her soft fat cheek. Damn, how babies smelled good. Again, I wondered at what age would they stop smelling so sweet? And I thought, I may never find out.
“I thought it best to let you sleep,” Melissa said, taking Angelina back. “You were completely out of it.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Except at one point when you sat up in bed and yelled, ‘Here he comes!’ That was interesting.”
“I was dreaming that Jeter Hoyt was on his way,” I said.
Melissa said, “Let’s hope you weren’t prescient.” She shook her head and turned her attention back to Angelina.
I padded to the window and parted the curtain.
“He’s still there,” Melissa said. And he was: the black-and-white sheriff’s vehicle. I vaguely remembered him from the night before. “There’s another one around the corner in the alley.”
“You’re kidding!” I said.
“I wish I was. I saw him this morning when I took the garbage out. He’s a nice man named Morales.”
“Hmmm.”
“I was thinking,” she said, “since you’re going to be home for a while if I couldn’t ask you to take out the garbage.”
“Sure.”
“I may have some other chores as well. I know you’re not at your best with time on your hands.”
“True.”
“And I don’t want you just hanging around driving me crazy,” she said.
“I’ve never not had a job. I don’t think I know what to do.”
“Look for another one, for starters. I left the employment section of the paper out for you. Who knows how quickly you can find something else? And I don’t need to tell you it needs to be fast.”
“Who knows,” I echoed.
“If we need to move, we need to move,” she said, bouncing Angelina on her knee, making her chuckle.
I looked at the two of them and felt my eyes mist up. I turned away.
AS I ATE cereal for breakfast, I watched them. I realized Melissa had taken no noticeable steps in preparation to turn our daughter over, even though it was just four days away. She’d packed no boxes, emptied no drawers. She behaved as if by denying the inevitability of it, the exchange wouldn’t take place. I conceded I was doing the same thing.
Sheriff’s cars in front of the house and down the block in the mouth of the cul-de-sac. There was no way we could slip past them even if we intended to do that. And where would we go anyway? Would we live in our car with the baby, constantly looking over our shoulders?
The obvious places for us to go were my parents’ ranch or her parents-her mother’s in Seattle or her father’s in Phoenix. But because they were obvious, they would be the first places the authorities would look.
There was nowhere else I could think of. If we tried to live on the road, we’d burn through our meager bank account so quickly it would leave skid marks. My severance check and vacation/sick money wouldn’t be processed for weeks. By then, if we had run, the sheriff would follow the check to us, wherever we were. Our credit cards would max out fast. We had no other income.
There was no way to sell the house for what little equity we had in it and use the money to escape. In the current Denver housing market, that could take months. I could get a few thousand from the Jeep and a couple thousand for Melissa’s car, but what would we run away in?
Every damned option was bad. I felt like driving back to the cop bar and finding that friendly bartender and pasting down another fifty and starting over. I spent the rest of the day organizing the garage and the attic, generally staying out of Melissa’s way. I kept my eye out for things we could sell if we had to. I watched a napping Angelina when Melissa went to King Soopers. She reported that she asked the deputy down the street-she described him as a very nice man-if he intended to follow her there and back. He told her no, their orders were to follow only if all three of us were in the vehicle, if it looked like we were attempting to flee our home with Angelina.
“Imagine that,” she said, shaking her head.
WHEN THE PHONE RANG after dinner, I grabbed it because Melissa was changing Angelina in the living room.
“It’s Jeter. It took me a while today to find that Appaloosa Club.”
A rolling tremor went through me from the top of my head and my toes curled in my shoes.
“You’re here?”
“Got in around noon. Found a place to stay. Took a nap. Now that it’s dark out, I want to get to work. Damn-Denver got big on me. Used to be a glorified cow town. I don’t hardly know my way around anymore. How many people live here now?”
“Two point four million.”
He paused. “That’s twice more than all of Montana.”
“Yes.”
“Where did all these folks come from?”
“All over,” I said. “Where are you now?”
“Some fleabag joint on West Colfax. At least this part of town hasn’t changed much. There are still hookers around, but I don’t think I’ve seen a white person since I’ve been here. It’s like some damned street in Tijuana.”
I didn’t know what to say.
“I called Cody, and he didn’t pick up, so I’m calling you. I’m going to the club to night.”
“Jeter, please, no.”
“What, you worried about my fee now that Brian’s dead? Don’t. This is a favor to you boys and to that little girl of yours.”
“Wait, don’t do anything until I get there…”
He hung up.
As I got my jacket, Melissa said, “Where are you going, Jack?”
“I don’t think you want to know,” I said. “That was Jeter Hoyt on the telephone.”
Which told her everything, and she turned away. I wondered if she felt as unclean and panicky as I did at that moment.
AS I CLIMBED INTO my Jeep, I heard the motor start in the sheriff’s car across the street. For a moment I closed my eyes and stood there with the door open. If he followed me down to Zuni Street…